Who Am I? Redux
by Chris Mitchel
Summary: Her Memory is lost. A voice in her head that taunts her with the truth. And two men, helping her to unravel the truth, and hide a truth of their own. please R
1. Waking up in Strange Places

**Who Am I? Redux**

Disclaimer: I didn't Create Hellsing, I don't own it.

Note From Chris: Those of you who have been reading my works since I started posting here some three or four years ago are probably looking at this right now going, "wait didn't he finish this story already?"

The answer is no. Wile the story was given an ending, it was FAR from finished. What you are about to read is Who Am I? As I first intended. Wile the core of the story is the same, many other things have changed. So to those of you coming back to this story, welcome back. And to those of you reading for the first time, enjoy.

**Chapter 1: Waking up in Strange Places**

Her head was pounding; it felt like someone was trying to shatter her brain with a jackhammer.

Slowly she began to sit up, pressing one hand firmly against her forehead, trying to rub away the pain. Muffled sounds that she couldn't distinguish filled her ears. She opened her eyes; the world looked like a painting where all the colors had run together. She closed them again.

A voice echoed somewhere in the back of her mind, drowning out the pain, "Are you awake now, Police Girl?"

Her eyes snapped open and the world slid into focus. The room was small, sparsely furnished. Aside from the small bed she sat on, there was nothing, no windows, no carpet, only the bed.

Outside she could hear rain pounding down, beating against the roof. Cracks of light crept across the floor from under the door opposite the bed, but it wasn't enough to reveal the room. So why could she see it all clear as day?

Her lips parted, her voice calling out to the voice in his mind, "Who are you?"

A deep chuckle filled her head, "You know full well who I am Police Girl. Or maybe you've forgotten," Again the voice chuckled, "have you forgotten yourself as well."

She opened her mouth to respond, to tell this voice in her head that she knew who she was, but she drew a blank. Her mouth moved trying to form words, trying to force out some kind of response.

Again in her head she heard the chuckle; slowly that chuckle began to intensify into the maniacal laughter of a mad man, "It seems the truth has escaped you Police Girl."

"Who am I?" her voice was barely above a whisper.

"If you can't remember yourself, then why should I tell you?"

She wasn't sure how long she sat there hugging her knees, listening to the rain fall outside. At some point she had thought she heard a door open and close somewhere near by followed by foot steps, but had heard nothing since. Fingers encased in dirt spattered white gloves picked at the holes in her black stockings.

The answers she wanted didn't seem to be in the torn fabric, and the quick look over she had given herself gave no real answers either. The blue one piece uniform she wore was torn in several places as well, exposing smooth, pale skin beneath. A mix of blood and dirt littered the uniform, and just above the right breast pocket was a patch, two red spaces and two black spaces. The only name that had been revealed by her quick look over was revealed on that patch in yellow lettering, 'Hellsing.'

Was that who she was?

Was Hellsing her name?

The voice in her head had called her 'Police Girl' and what she wore did resemble a police uniform.

Something about that theory didn't sound quite right to her.

She pulled at the sheets with her toes trying desperately to remember something, anything of who she was, but she continued to draw a blank.

Voices, male voices, different from the one she had heard in her head.

She slipped off the bed, her feet falling mutely to the floor as she stepped carefully across the room. Slim fingers grasped the door knob, giving it a quarter turn before pushing it open a crack. It was a simple hall way on the other side. Worn hardwood floor and faded green walls.

She could hear the voices more clearly now coming from the end of the hallway.

"The hell made you think bringing her back here was a good idea Max, the Major never would have…"

Another voice cut in, "I'm NOT my Grandfather Jack, there's ALOT of things he would have done that I haven't, or thing's I've done that he wouldn't have. Deal with it."

"All that stupid shit you've done that he wouldn't have is why he survived three tours in 'nam. If she is one of Hellsing's pets you've risked compromising this entire operation kid, and if we get compromised we're fucked."

She began to move slowly down the hall way, sticking to the shadows along the wall to try and hide herself. The second man, the man with the gravely voice spoke again.

"We're going to be here for another three weeks tops, and frankly, I don't think Hellsing would have sent an operative of that caliber into a situation like that."

The hallway ended in a large square living room, a large leather couch faced away from the hallway opening and off to its left was a low chair. The man sitting in the chair looked up.

He looked to be in his early forty's and hand sandy blonde hair with a nearly trimmed beard the same color. Bushy eyebrows topping brandy colored eyes arched when he saw her.

"Hey Maxi, looks like sleeping beauty woke up."

A cigar was clenched tightly between the man's teeth. The smell of it hit her, conjuring up a hazy image of a blonde woman in glasses sitting behind a large desk puffing away on her own cigar.

The man on the couch turned slowly to face her; an unlit cigarette teetered between his lips. He didn't look to be more then twenty-six. His voice was the gravely one he had heard before.

The first question that sprang into her mind blurted out of her mouth, "Do you know who I am?"

An odd silence hung in the air for several moments before the larger man let out a hearty laugh, "Not the kind of question most people would be asking when waking up in a strange place with two strange people."

"We found in a building where the roof had collapsed, you where under the rubble." Added the younger one, "and since you're asking us who you are, I guess asking for your name isn't going yield any answers."

She shook her head.

The larger man nodded towards the couch, "Well then for no other reason then simple manners, we should introduce ourselves, my name's Jack Barton, and this halfwit is Max Archer."

"Fuck you Jack."

She moved around the couch, taking a seat on the far side, away from the man she no knew was Max.

Jack leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, "Well you don't remember who you are, at least that's what I'm assuming, otherwise you wouldn't have asked us."

She managed to nod.

"So the most logical thing to ask would be, what do you remember."

Her faced contorted into a mask of deep thought, "I remember simple things, you eat with a fork and knife, take afternoon tea at three o' clock and we're in London, England. And that…." She reached out, tugging the now lit cigarette from Max's mouth and snuffed it out in an ashtray on the low coffee table, "can kill you."

For a moment the two of them just stared at her. The large man flung his head backwards, howling in laughter, "Well, there's plenty of things he does that can kill him that."

Max tugged another coffin nail from a crumpled foil package that he had produced from the pocket of his jeans, "Yeah, what the fuck ever…" he muttered lighting it. His nostrils flared, releasing a single shapeless cloud of smoke, "So what, if anything can you tell us that may help us figure out who you are."

Even as Jack continued to laugh, she hung her head. Any attempt she had made to remember had yielded nothing.

The voice….

"Just after I woke up I heard a voice in my head. It seemed to know who I am. Called me 'Police Girl."

The two exchanged a quick glance, "Well it's a start, what'd you think kid, have someone check the London Police Authority records for anyone matching her description?"

Max gave a quick nod as he got up from the couch, "Sounds like the best way to do things."

She was puzzled now, how on earth would they be able to access police files?

Their house gust had retreated back to bed, giving Jack a chance to finish chewing out his partner.

"I'm going to ask you this one more time Max, and I want an answer. Why the hell did you drag her out of that rubble and bring her back her?"

He took a long pull from the glass in his hand before setting is back down on the coffee table, "To be totally honest with you Jack, I got no clue why. I just felt…I dunno, like I couldn't just leave her there."

"Did I ever tell you about the time your Grandfather tried to load a VC solider onto a medivac chopper?"

"Nope."

The older man leaned back in his chair, "We had just retaken a village on the Trang River, Charlie had been dug in pretty good. Danny and me where securing the area after the attack. What we found was a lone survivor, he was pretty banged up, shard of shrapnel had torn him open, he was holding his guts in with a pot lid." He suppressed a shudder as the memory washed over him.

The air had been stick with humidity and the sent of gasoline wafted on the breeze from a napalm strike on the tree line boarding the village, even after all these years the cries of the wounded man haunted Jack's nightmares.

"Medic's said his injuries where to severe and moving him would kill him. He way crying out in pain, begging for help. Now Danny, he went and did the only thing he could. He knelt down next to the man and took his hand, told him he'd make the pain go away," his voice dropped several tones as he reached the climax of the story, "then he stood up, pulling his .45 from the holster, put it the man's head and…."

"Bang," Max finished.

Jack gave a slow nod, "I think, you where channeling your Grandfather when you saved her. Making up for the one that he couldn't."

Max lit a fresh cigarette, "I said it before Jack, I'm not my Grandfather.."


	2. You Mean I'm What?

**Who Am I? Redux**

Disclaimer: I didn't Create Hellsing, I don't own it.

**Chapter 2: "You Mean I'm what?"**

"You REALLY fucking did it this time kid!"

Max looked up from cleaning the old Colt 1911 to Jack's flushed red face as the large man slammed a folder down on the coffee table. He set the gun aside and flipped open the folder, "What the hell are you talking about Jack."

"The stray you brought home is EXACTLY what we thought."

Inside the folder was a very official looking print up from the London Police Authority with a picture of their guest attached to it. "Seras Victoria, age 19, member of D11. Missing in Action, presumed dead. Jack I see nothing here to indicate that she's a vampire. And as I recall, weren't you missing presumed dead once after D-Day and once during the Gulf War."

Jack ignored the comment and sat down in his chair, striking a match to light his cigar, "According to what it says there she went MIA after an operation in a small town three hours outside London called Cheddar. I remember hearing something about it from one of our boys out here. Worst incident of vampire attack in the history of England, whole town, dead, the cover story was fucking art."

A cloud of smoke escaped Max's lips as he spoke, "Still no seeing your point here big guy."

"I don't understand why you keep trying to find reasons why she's NOT one of them Max. This is just more proof. And incase you haven't noticed, she hasn't fed in almost a week. At this rate it's going to get the better of her and…"

"What's going to get the better of me?"

Both men looked up in unison to see the girl they now knew was Seras Victoria standing in the door. The tattered uniform she had been warring when they found her, replaced by a pair of Max's sweat pants, the draw string pulled as tight as possible and a shapeless grey t-shirt.

Max leaned forward, snuffing out his cigarette, "Come grab a seat and we'll tell you everything we can."

_Vampire…_

The word conjured up images of sharply dressed men skulking about in the night, slipping from the shadows to find a pretty girl then dragging her back into the darkness to turn her into his evening meal.

Was that really what she was?

It was well after midnight now, and both her hosts were sound asleep, leaving her alone, stretched out on the couch with nothing more then her thoughts.

"Are you starting to see now Police Girl?"

That voice, that taunting voice echoing in the back of her mind.

_Not you again…_

"Yes, me again Police Girl, you will never be rid of me no matter how hard you try. I will always be part of you, I made you, gave you your unlife."

An image flashed across her minds eye, a dimly lit church, moonlight pouring thru the windows, casting deep shadows. A priest tightly holding a blonde girl in some kind of police uniform tightly.

The moon light illuminated blood pooling in the aisles, flowing forth from bodies between the pews.

The damnable voice once again filled her ears, "I know you don't want to die tonight."

It seemed to be coming from a lone figure clad in scarlet standing before the splintered remains of the door, an impossibly large handgun aimed towards the girl and the priest.

"So, do you want to come with me?"

A gunshot rang out and her eyes snapped open, greeted by the darkness of the living room. The shot echoed in her ears before the infernal laughter of the voice drowned it out, "The choice was always yours Police Girl, now remember the truth."

She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around them, letting out a timid whimper.

She wanted nothing more then to remember the truth, remember who she was. She wanted to remember something, ANYTHING.

Her mouth felt dry, like she hadn't had anything to drink in months and a warm smell filled her nostrils. Propelled by some unseen force Seras slipped off the couch, her bare feet falling mutely to the hardwood floor. She was scarily aware she was even moving now as he crept swiftly down the hallway towards one of the rooms.

Her slender fingers took hold of the knob and turned it, pushing the door open a crack she peered inside.

Max lay face down on the bed, snoring loudly, and one hand under his pillow.

The smell, that warm inviting smell was coming from him. Traces of other smells hung in the air; most evident among them was cigarette smoke as well as something else, something familiar that she couldn't put her finger on.

Her tongue ran over her lips, wetting them. She tugged on the knob again, prepared to pull the door fully open when she felt something cold and metallic press against the back of her head.

"You're going want to stop what you're doing right now sweetheart, or we're going be cleaning up your brains in the morning," Jack's voice rasped in her ear from behind.

Seras blinked several times, suddenly fully aware of where she was.

"Problem with your kind," Jack began as he busied himself in the small kitchen separated from the living room by a counter at which Seras now sat, "is that if you go too long without feeding, the hunger takes over and it takes over."

"What would have happened if you hadn't…?"

"If I hadn't stepped in, you would have most likely killed my best friend, and I would have been VERY unhappy with you."

A rather large gun hung from a shoulder holster he wore over his wrinkled shirt. He turned to face setting a tall glass of thick red liquid in front of her on the counter, "Drink up."

He leaned back, picking up another glass for himself and bringing it to his lips.

"Jack, why do you have a gun?"

He took a sip from the glass then brought the glass down just enough so he could speak, "Can't tell you that."

She took a sip from the glass and cringed at the taste, "The bloody hell is this."

"Just answered your own question."

Seras scrunched up her face in confusion, "What?"

"It's blood."

"But you're…?"

He drained the last of the glass and set it down on the counter, "I was born in 1898, hick town in upper state New York, mother was a young woman who got involved with a vampire that had taken up residence in the town."

"So you're…."

"Half vampire, d'hampire is the correct term. Unlike you I can walk in day, lack the silver allergy and all that shit, but I still got all the strengths, but the thirst is still there."

She looked up at him, fingers running numbly over the glass, "Jack, have you ever….killed someone?"

He gave a nod, "Plenty, but never to feed."


	3. Running Down a Dream

**Who Am I? Redux**

Disclaimer: I didn't Create Hellsing, I don't own it.

**Chapter 3: Running Down a Dream**

The sun was starting to peek over the horizon, spilling across the ground in the cool morning. Max took a deep breath and let it out, watching the clouds of it drift thru the air. Getting up before dawn had become routine for him over the years, as was the six mile run he was about to start. Keeping in shape was important for someone in his line of work, and that was doubly true when it pitted against things that were far beyond human on a regular basis. The daily run also gave him a chance to think, to mull over any problems he may be having.

He took one more deep breath and lurched forward.

The problem on Max's mind this particular morning was the same one that had plagued him for the last several. The problem of the guest he and Jack were currently tending to. They where operating in London under the radar, ordered to avoid all contact with Hellsing personnel at all costs, and here he had taken one of their people prisoner.

Prisoner, was that really the word for it?

They weren't keeping the girl against her will, so could she really be called a prisoner.

Had he known what she was he would have just left her in the rubble for her own people to dig out.

But then again, he always had a weakness for blondes.

He let out a breath and quickened his pace. Another week tops and the operation would be finished and he and Jack would be heading home, unfortunately she didn't come with a 1-800 number to call if she got lost. The Big Guy was hell bent on believing that sooner of later (most likely sooner) that her master would come for her along with a few dozen Hellsing commandos to take her back. If that happened they where fucked.

Jack had been right; taking her in had been a stupid idea. Six months they had been in London and for six months they had managed to stay ten steps ahead of Hellsing. Normally by the time their people showed up on scene there was nothing left but the remains of a couple of beasties and a lot of spent brass. Kept the Brit's chasing ghosts and shadows wile they were able to keep moving, tracking the damned fish men things thru the city.

The fish weren't Max's problem, at least normally they wouldn't be. Zero had dropped the ball during the extermination operation in San Francisco and a single one had slipped onto an outgoing freighter. And one of those fish was all it took to cause an infestation, bastards could asexually reproduce. Each nest they hit housed half dozen eggs or so, nothing a well placed C4 charge couldn't take care of. He worried that before this was over the mother load would show up, one nest with more eggs then he even wanted to think about.

A shiver ran down his spine, brought on by both the thought of all those damned fish and the morning chill.

The warm putrid stench of human waste hung thick in air, stinging her eyes. Even thru the gas mask she had to fight back the urge to vomit. These fish men, Deep Ones, they had been referred to in the briefings, obviously couldn't smell a damned thing. Why else would they be living in such a fowl smelling place as the London Sewers?

The narrow tunnel had opened into a larger round chamber; the other members of the fire team began to fan out, in search of some trace of the target.

"Bloody hell…"

She didn't need to ask what had prompted the comment from one of the soldiers, she could see it clearly enough. Slumped along the ledge of the of the pool, black ichor seeping from wounds dotting it's body, was the scaly pale form of one of the Deep Ones. Several spent bullet casings dotted the concrete not far from the body. Again, this same thing had happened a dozen or more times in recent months. She frowned under the mask.

She sloshed away from the body picking up one of the shells, dropping it instantly; it was still warm.

The shooting couldn't have happened more then a few minutes ago judging by the temperature of the brass, and that would mean…

"Keep on your toes boys," she shouted over her shoulder, "Who ever did this could still be close."

The other dozen men that made up the squad began to fan out; looking for any trace that someone could still be in the area.

Off to her left, back the way they had come, rapid footsteps, two sets, defiantly not with her.

She took off; discarding the belt fed machine gun she had been carrying. The shouts of her squad mates fell on deaf ears. She had to know, had to find out, who kept doing this.

A quick flash in the tunnel ahead, the crack of a gunshot and a bullet whizzed harmlessly past her head.

Now they where shooting at her?

Two more shots, both struck the wall to her left side.

She was getting closer, she could make out two forms now both male, and one was about a foot taller then the other and looked to be built like a house. The other one was slimmer and faster, keeping a good ten feet ahead of his partner.

"Move it old man!" one of them shouted in a slightly gravely voice.

She was closing fast another thirty feet and…

Something beeped, followed by a thunderous explosion.

Seras awoke with a start, almost falling off the couch. It seemed she had dozed off watching one of the movies Max had been nice enough to go rent for her. Something about a war between vampires and werewolves and a man who was capable of becoming half of each, she'd have to re watch it later since the credits where now rolling.

A cold sweat had formed, gluing the thin t-shirt she wore to her back. The dreams where getting more intense. Jack had told her to pay close attention to her dreams, they could be fragmented memories.

She slipped off the couch, heading towards the bathroom, the details of her dream running thru her mind. Someplace underground, the sound of water sloshing about with each step and by god the horrid smell.

The overhead flouriest lights snapped on and she let out a slight gasp. The face in the mirror, or lack there of, still shocked her. The absence of reflection seemed rather suiting, she knew nothing of her past, so why should she know what she looks like?

The faucet let out a squeak as she turned the handle, catching the cold water in one cupped hand before splashing it onto her face.

Something from the dream floated into her mind. The two men who had shot at her, the height difference between them had been exactly the same as the height difference between Max and Jack, and the one who had spoken sounded like…

No, it wasn't possible, it was just a dream, there was no way they would do something like that her.


	4. Wasting Time

**Who Am I? Redux**

Disclaimer: I didn't Create Hellsing, I don't own it.

(Note from Chris: Once again guys I'm really sorry for the delay. Had a family crisis back in the fall and have been trying to fight my way past the writer's block it brought on since. But I'm back for now and getting ready to bring this first of three re-writes to an end.)

**Chapter 4: Wasting Time…**

A quiet afternoon to himself was something Max hadn't been able to have in the last six months, and he had to intention of wasting the one he now had. He had a backlog of comic books he had yet to get a chance to enjoy, the greatest hits of Queen and a cold case of beer. Everything he needed for a nice, lazy afternoon without a care in the world. His lighter sparked to life, the flame raising for a second, swallowing the end of the cigarette teetering between Max's lips before he snapped the lid down, snuffing it out in an instant.

He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke drift out from between his lips. It was going to be a good afternoon.

One hand drifted lazily over to the pile of comics and took hold of the top book. The first 30 Days of Night graphic novel. He hadn't developed a taste of horror comics until he had been recruited into Zero. The entire Hellboy series had been on the recommended reading list he had been given during his first week, and wile it was a far cry from what Zero did, it had defiantly been entertaining.

Somewhere in the apartment he heard a door open followed by the sound of bare feet on the hardwood floor. He saw the tuff of blonde hair over the top of his book as Seras shuffled across the living room, vanishing into the bathroom. Several minutes ticked by before the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink running before she emerged again, shuffling back down the hallway and into her room. He smiled faintly. Seras has stumbled across the Gamecube a few days before, and been staying up past her bed time ever since playing Resident Evil 4.

He had dealt with more then a few vampires in his time with Zero, but none of them had been as cute as her, in terms of appearance and personality. Then again, he had never taken the chance to get to know any of his targets, just a few quick shots and down they went.

_Gotta love .223…_

The soft cloth ran smoothly over the stainless steel surface of Jack's Desert Eagle, or as Max tended to call to call it Semi Automatic Overcompensation in .50AE Magnum. The .50AE had a lot more stopping power then Max's .45, and wile the recoil would cause it to be impractical for an average solider, it felt like nothing to him.

The kid was asleep on the couch, comic books strewn across the floor and the ashtray overflowing on the coffee table. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how he had spent the afternoon wile Jack had been running around the city trying to find someplace to drop of their guest before they left the country for good. He had hated England during World War One, hated even more in World War Two and hated more then he ever thought possible now.

Maybe it was just because the Brits always seemed so damned snooty, their noses always in the air and a stick up their collective asses about something. Or maybe he had just met the ones who had a bad attitude towards Americans. All 'cause of the revolutionary that was over two hundred fucking years in the past, but no they just couldn't forget it.

He snorted, a cloud of cigar smoke blowing out his nose as he did so.

Or maybe it was just the lousy weather.

Either way he was looking to getting the hell out of London and back home, and hopefully he'd never have to set foot in this depressing country for the rest of unnaturally long life.

"What the bloody hell…"

Sitting crossed legged on the floor in front of the TV she stared wide eyed in disbelief at the blood splattered game over screen, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. A swarm of enemies had come at her, hurling axes and TNT. The fight had been frantic; costing her most of the ammo and health ups she had been caring. But with a single well placed shotgun blast which took the head off the final aggressor the battle came to an end.

The only problem had been that final foe kept coming forwards, seized her character by the neck and proceeded to slam him on the ground, using up the last bit of health he had. It was a death that had seemed way too far out to believe, but she had witnessed with her own eyes. And Max, if he had seen it instead of being passed out on the couch, would no doubt have fallen to the floor laughing the sight.

The controller clattered lightly to the floor and Seras fell backwards, the upside-down image of Max on the couch filling her view. He hadn't done much in the last couple hours aside from blurting out some rather strange allegations about cake before rolling over and falling back asleep.

"There's a nice meal all laid out for you there Police Girl. Maybe you should take advantage of it."

_Not you again._

She thought that annoying voice was gone for, it hadn't come to taunt her for almost a week now but once again here it was.

"Yes me again. I am ALWAYS here Police Girl, even if I don't say anything I am ALWAYS with you. I made you and you are connected to me just like that TV is to the wall."

Her lips parted, a highly annoyed whisper slipping out from between them, "If you know so fucking much why not just tell me what I seem to have forgotten?"

A deep chuckle echoed through her skull, "It seems you've developed abit of a dirty mouth Police Girl, maybe your new friends starting to rub off on you. Never before have I heard you use such language."

"What's your point?" she snapped back.

"Maybe this little excursion has been good for you. You seem to have developed a back bone over. But I think you've been away from home for long enough. It's time for you to come home."


	5. Packing Up

Who Am I

**Who Am I? Redux**

Disclaimer: I didn't Create Hellsing, I don't own it.

**Chapter 5: Packing Up**

They should have been gone three days ago. But they where still in the safe house, being watched. And the fact that they where being watched was what bothered Jack the most as he parted the bathroom blinds ever so slightly with his fingers. Seras had been the one to spot it first, a simple black work van parked across the road. The exact same kind he had seen the FBI use in the past. All weapons had been loaded into the Land Rover they had been using as transport for the last six months and the vehicle itself waited in a parking structure several blocks away. Over the last three days they had given the entire apartment a full wipe down to smudge up all the fingerprints that they had left. Every possible form of evidence had been removed from the scene, when the Brits stopped sitting on their asses and finally hit the place he and Max would be gone, leaving nothing more then the girl behind.

He let the blind fall back into place before turning away; peeling the leather gloves he wore off before stuffing them into his back pocket. The problem now was waiting, if they moved too early the troops that where no doubt sitting in that van would take them down in the street, if they moved too late they'd have a shoot out to deal with just to get out the front door of the apartment and risked catching civilians in the cross fire.

Max leaned against the door frame, his expression totally neutral. His left hand held his Zippo, which at the moment he was snapping open and shut a nervous habit the young solider shared with his late grandfather.

"Another day tops, I'm hoping sometime in the next couple hours. That way we can get out wile Seras is still asleep and avoid any issues with that."

"You know the odds of them moving before dusk is slim to nill."

The large man nodded as he pushed past his partner and into the living room, "Wishful thinking on my part."

"Well then maybe you should stop thinking wishfully and start thinking realistically. With all the experience you got under your belt I figure you would have been able to figure out when they were gonna move by now."

"Planning counter ops is not an exact science kid. It's true that there are certain standards everyone follows," he leaned against the back of the couch as he continued to talk, "but that doesn't mean everyone does everything the exact same way."

Max's lighter sparked to life, the flame swallowing the end of the cigarette which had found its way between his lips, "I ever mention how much I hate waiting for people to come and shoot at me?"

The sound of mass movement woke Seras from her usual fitful sleep. She could hear it all perfectly, at least a dozen men in the hallway outside the flat. She sat bolt upright, listening intently unable to hear any other movement.

Splintering wood, the footsteps charging inwards.

She was out of bed now in a low crouch, instincts she wasn't even aware she had taking over. She moved quickly pressing her back against the wall next to the door as footsteps grew closer. Two sets came to a stop outside her door.

A pause and door flew open; a man in full commando gear stepped in, a submachine raised at the ready.

She hesitated for a brief moment; something about their uniforms seemed familiar. With all her strength she brought one hand down on the barrel of the weapon in an attempt to drive it downwards. The sound of bending steel filled the air as the barrel bent downwards, then broke right off. There was no time to think over how strange and impossible that seemed.

She swung towards the man's legs with the piece of gun still clutched in her hand. There was a sickening sound of the bone cracking as he dropped to the ground crying out in pain.

The broken gun barrel clattered to the ground and she charged forward, throwing all her weight behind one shoulder as she slammed into the second commando, knocking him flat on his back.

A chorus of shouts filled the air as Seras charged down the short hallway into the living room and straight into several more men, guns trained on her. She skidded to a halt, unsure of what cores of action to take here.

"Miss Victoria you are t stand down at once!" barked a sharp female voice.

Seras turned slowly towards the front door only to see a blonde woman in her early twenties standing in the door way. A heavy trench coat draped over her shoulders. Blue eyes cold as ice locked on her from behind a pair of round glasses.

She took several steps forward and the men who had flooded the room lowered their weapons, "You've caused us a good deal of concern over the last few weeks Seras. You'd best just stop fighting and come home."


	6. The Road Home

Who Am I

**Who Am I? Redux**

Disclaimer: I didn't Create Hellsing, I don't own it.

**Chapter 6: The Road Home**

The passport he had shown back at Heathrow had identified him as David McMaster, a Canadian tourist from Toronto. No one had given the shaggy headed man a second glance as they hurried him along to the terminal and onto the British Airways 747 for Toronto and from there flight back to Delaware.

That had been two hours ago.

Now Max was settled comfortably into the first class seat aboard the jet, feeling a great degree of satisfaction with himself for having gotten away so cleanly. Jack had boarded a flight towards Mexico City and from there he'd take another flight home. He tugged the old Toronto Maple Leafs cap he wore down over his eyes and reclined his seat intent on nodding off to sleep for the rest of the flight.

Even as he settled in to try and sleep something he had been pushing to the back of his mind rushed forward.

_Seras._

In the last three and a half weeks he had grown attached to her, more so then as a professional he should have aloud himself to become. They had left there sound asleep when the commandos stormed the place. When she had awoken to find them she had no doubt been terrified.

"Can I get you something to drink sir?" asked a pleasant accented female voice.

He pushed his cap back with one finger, looking up at a petite brunette. When he answered all traces of the overly polite hockey player he had been back at the airport where gone, the usual gravel crept back into his voice, "Whisky, please."

She smiled at him and retrieved a small bottle of Jack Daniel's and a plastic up full of glass from her cart. A few bill found there way from the breast pocket of his shirt into her hand as he sat back up and cracked open the bottle, empting the contents in the cup. He'd be glad to be home again, back to the usual routine. Rigorous training, scheduled down time, moving into action at a moment's notice and no having to worry about someone else beating them to the punch.

He downed the drink in a single gulp before returning his seat to it's reclined position and falling into a fitful sleep full of dreams of a little blonde.

#

Integra rolled the cigar slowly back and forth across her desk, eyes locked on the tall slim man standing across from her, "She's adjusting?"

Walter gave a curt nod, adjusting his monocle before speaking, "As well as one would in such a situation. Much of her memory has seem to have returned in the last several hours. Though everything before her time with us still seems to be rather fuzzy. She has said very little on the people who took care of her through all this."

The rolling of the cigar came to a stop then slowly went to her lips, "Has Alucard said anything to you about why he waited so long to tell us where she was?"

"No Ma'am, but I can speculate his reasons."

A match snapped to life and singed the end of the cigar, "And the search of the flat?"

"Nothing, side from a Nintendo Gamecube with a sticky note on it indicating that it was for Seras."

"It seems then we're at a dead end in this investigation. We shall leave Seras off active duty for the next several days to allow for her to recover. For the time being that's all we can."

**End…..**

Final Notes from Chris:

There we have it folks, the rewrite of the story that started it all has come to an end. It's still not 100 what I want it to be, but I can live with leaving it as is. I'll be dropping off the scene till sometime in the New Year, but in the mean time I will be working on doing full over hauls of both Division Zero and Power Struggle for those of you who remember those two stores. And once all the re-writes are done everything will come together in the grand final Dark Tomorrow. So stay tuned. -Chris


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